


Tome'tayl (Memory)

by hypernousnight



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: And luckily he's enough of a Little Shit to do things like spoil his Troopers, Clone Trooper Culture (Star Wars), Death Traditions, Gen, Obi-Wan Kenobi is my favorite alley cat, Or at least support their steady development as a culture, References to/Discussion of Death, The Jedi Love their Troopers, The Troopers Love their Jedi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-23
Updated: 2020-10-23
Packaged: 2021-03-08 03:06:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,265
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26608717
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hypernousnight/pseuds/hypernousnight
Summary: Death is inevitable in war. The Clones - thevode- know this better than anyone.And there is a comfort in it. A freedom found nowhere else - even in the lauded Galactic Republic. It's something no natborn can really comprehend; not even the Jedi. But like all peoples in the galaxy, thevodehave their own traditions and rituals.But memories are only so solid, and the list of names grows longer. Those marching ahead swell in number, and not all faces are remembered.
Comments: 3
Kudos: 83





	Tome'tayl (Memory)

**Author's Note:**

> Housekeeping things:  
>   
> First - I don't own anything from Star Wars, the characters, the events, etc. That all belongs to the Mouse.  
>   
> Second - I don't know a whole lot about Star Wars, and a lot of what I _do_ know is informed by fanon. Please do _not_ take anything in this fic as an attack, I'm just sharing a thought I had.  
>   
> Third - I don't want this story on Goodreads. Like, I feel like this is really easy to understand, but apparently I need to say it: Please don't post this to Goodreads or other review sites. If you want to review or rate this fic, please do so in the comments below - that's why they're there.  
>   
> 

The 212th is a...unique battalion. High General Kenobi was, not revered, but...beloved by the _vode_ he led.

His refusal to cut corners, to turn a blind eye to the petty cruelties, to accept the losses of their siblings – their brothers, their sisters, those who were neither, or both, or somewhere in-between – in battle as anything other than tragedies.

He earned their respect, and their loyalty.

But the thing which earned him their _love_ , that is something else.

* * *

Jedi are not prone to frivolous things. It is part faith, part culture, and wholly, unerringly, foreign to many.

The _vode_ understand though. Nothing owned can be kept, nothing physical is safe. A lesson learned early on Kamino. There is nothing to own, nothing to be _yours_ within the sanitized white walls of the Tipoca facilities. Nothing but your heart, your mind, your _name_.

And somehow General Kenobi understands better than most.

There is a cargo freighter stationed in the hanger which is always manned. No matter the time of day, no matter the battle, there is always a crew on board, per General Kenobi's orders. Its name, in basic, is _Haven_ , and it is off limits to all natborn personnel.

It's the personal property of the General himself.

_Vode_ from every battalion, every fleet, every garrison have an access code. Every shiny, every Alpha ARC trooper, every single _vod_ could access the _Haven_.

It is...not sacred, not really; _vode_ don't have a true conception of sacred space. Their faith is part _Mando'ade_ , part Jedi Force _osik_ , but mostly pure survival practicality. A space is sacred for the _vode_ it holds, not the materials it's made from, the rituals performed there, or the prayers uttered. A space is sacred because it holds family – of blood, of battle, of hearts and minds and souls.

But if there were a sacred space for them, for the children seeking the stars, the _vode_ , then it is the _Haven_.

It is not a place of pilgrimage, nor is it a place of celebration.

It is a place of quiet remembrance, of mourning, of understanding, a place crafted with love – not in its construction, but in its presentation. Paid for with the stipend given to the High General, a luxury no _vode_ knows, and gifted to them, _in honor_ of them. It is the greatest act of love they have ever witnessed, have ever experienced.

It is this, more than anything else, which earns General Kenobi the loyalty of the _vode_.

* * *

War is monstrous. A twisted, bloody beast, clawing and howling its hunger to the universe. The _vode_ know this well.

No matter the plan, no matter the general or the backup or the victory, _vode_ are lost to that voracious end. Sacrificed, to grease the wheels of flint eyed politicians and suffocated Core Workers to fill their pockets with.

But the _vode_ were born for war, built and trained and hardened for battle; what little faith they have reflects that.

The _mando_ who trained them, who sired them, in his own bastardized way, knew the costs and hardships of such a life. There has never been a time where peace has truly flourished on Mandalor; even the New Mandalorians practice their own form of silent violence.

The _vode_ have their own rituals, their own secrets. Faces are collected whenever possible – from battlefields the galaxy over, _vode_ will stoop and collect the buckets of their fallen, hooking them to their belt when possible.

It wasn't a true secret – hidden away from the sharp eyes of their generals. But it wasn't spoken of, never acknowledged. Any Jedi who asked was deemed untrustworthy – for secrets cannot be forced from a people made for war.

General Kenobi was the only one who _did_ something about it. He never acknowledged it, never asked; one day the bulk freighter arrived at the hanger on Coruscant, and it never left.

Within a rotation Commander Cody had quietly disseminated the knowledge to the _vode_ chat; the _Haven_ was a space for any and all _vode_. No natborn could access it, it would always have a crew on deck, and it was _theirs_. Held in the name of the General, but owned, controlled, and operated by them. Commander Cody was the unofficial keeper, unanimously voted on by unrecognized people from across the galaxy in private spaces.

And a new tradition begins.

* * *

Requisitions are expensive. It's a fact of life, and it war it's a cruel, unambiguous, exhausting truth.

Like many such things, it provides barely a speed bump for General Kenobi.

Within three weeks, every trooper receives a brand new shiny bucket, and a message goes up in the _vode_ chat, pinned for all to see.

" _Let no face be forgotten, let no name be lost._

_There is a place for you, a place to rest, a place to remember. Until we can march together once again, your face shall remain, for every_ vode _lost, for every face left behind._

_Ni su'cuyi, gar kyr'adyc, ni partayli, gar darasuum._ [1]"

The instructions are simple.

And the bulk freighter fills. Row upon row of buckets, each meticulously painted, each with a carefully inscribed name plate underneath.

Those whose faces cannot be given their true face are instead carefully painted with their name, there platoon name, and their battalion number in the appropriate color. It's not right – no _vode_ 's face should be forgotten – but it is the callous reality.

Buckets are delivered to the _Negotiator_ in droves. Some are brought in by hand, placed with care. Some are in boxes, from _vode_ who are too far from Coruscant to deliver them in person.

Whenever the 212th arrives on Coruscant the first few hours of leave are spent moving box after box after box from the General's chambers to the _Haven_ , _vode_ from every available battalion and sector unloading buckets into their places, queuing the near-silent inscribing machine to etch name, squad, and battalion into the plaques; the next time the _Negotiator_ enters hyperspace every off-site _vode_ slips away to place plaques, uploading photos to the _vode_ chat for approval.

* * *

Every _vode_ on the _Negotiator_ knows where the _Haven_ 's emergency coordinates are set to; inputted by Commander Cody himself, as a tribute, an acknowledgement, and a sign of gratitude.

General Kenobi is not involved in the affairs of Stewjon. Appears to be barely invested in the state of its people or governance. The only reason the _vode_ know of his connection is because medical has a copy of his file.

Commander Cody is the one who requested the General's permission.

The coordinates are locked in, unchangeable to anyone without the proper codes. The astromech permanently ensconced within the ship is programmed to prevent tampering.

War is war, and none of them want to see their _vode_ lost.

* * *

Though the official name is the _Haven_ , there is another, quieter name. One whispered only in the securest of spaces, the darkest of corners, the closest of groups.

_Tome'tayl_.

_Memory_.

It is not for the natborns to know. As much as they may be trusted in battle, the _vode_ have been burned too often to trust them with such knowledge.

Only one person has earned the knowledge, has proven themselves loyal enough, honorable enough, _compassionate_ enough for such a thing.

He never asks.

* * *

General Kenobi is considered one of the good generals. He treats his battalion with respect, he honors their names.

More than any of that, he has proven himself to be _vode_ in spirit if not in flesh.

And all the _vode_ love him for it.

Just as he loves them.

**Author's Note:**

> [1] _Ni su'cuyi, gar kyr'adyc, ni partayli, gar darasuum_ – "I'm still alive, but you are dead. I remember you, so you are eternal." The Mandalorian daily recitation of the dead developed by KT.
> 
> I discovered the idea of helmets/buckets as "faces" in the amazing crossover fic [_A Star to Steer By_](https://archiveofourown.org/works/3514793/) by [dogmatix](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dogmatix/pseuds/dogmatix) and [norcumi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/norcumi/pseuds/norcumi). I highly recommend it, especially if you're a Stargate fan. (It's pretty accessible regardless, I know almost nothing about Stargate and I didn't struggle much).
> 
> I don't plan on editing this for grammatical or spelling errors - so unless I horribly misrepresent a culture, sexuality, gender, religion, or anything relating to personal identity please don't leave a critique. All mistakes are mine and mine alone.  
> 


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